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Authors: Michael Lister
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a few thirty-story condos in a swamp wouldn’t raise any questions. Besides, he just had to sell the idea, not implement it.
Golden said, “Let me see what happens when this concoction expands. You said that water activates it.”
“That’s correct.” Randy smiled, using the one his first boss taught him. The smile that made his eyes twinkle. “We can use this little fountain.” He led the older man over to a basin, which had a small stream of water that projected over three coral-like rocks. Randy made a show out of setting the bag in the water and soaking it well then shoved the nozzle of the spray insulation can into the front of the bag. Golden never stepped closer than a few feet. For once he wasn’t upset Dale was crowding them so bad. The little doofus made it hard for the man to come too close.
Randy used one finger to press the hidden can of insulation and felt the foam start to inflate into the bag. It became rigid in less than three seconds. If it worked right, the sand and sawdust mixture would be stuck to the outside of the foam in the front of the bag and look like it just expanded. It just had to look good this one time. The investment was for large-scale production. By the time this old fart figured out there was a problem, they’d be in bankruptcy and apologizing that things didn’t work out.
He faced Golden and smiled. Playing with the bag he said, “Takes a minute but it firms right up.” He handed the bag to Golden who squeezed it and then, with out asking permission, opened it to examine the inside.
Randy smiled, thinking it couldn’t have gone more perfectly.
Dale squeezed in next to them, radiating a body odor that went with that fountain of perspiration he’d been leaking all morning.
Golden looked hard at Dale until he took a step back. Then he turned to Randy without any expression, the bag still in his hand.
Randy’s heart started to pump faster and, for the first time, realized he was dealing with a man who had been in different businesses for the past forty years. A man used to scams and angles. He was the type of man who had developed Florida in the first place, displacing species and causing housing to soar so locals had to move. Randy felt certain their plan had been discovered.
Then Golden smiled.
Was it a smile of appreciation or a predator who had caught his prey?
The older man’s face softened and he said, “The lab says this will hold as a foundation. What about condos?”
“We need more testing. That’s what this round of capitol will finance.”
“How many investors so far?”
“We intend to raise ten million. We’ll base the investment on a percentage of the capitol.” Randy studied the man’s face. He was hard to read but he didn’t seem wary. Maybe this was working out. Maybe he was about to reel in the big fish.
After another thirty seconds of studying the bag and considering things, Golden turned his attention to the six-foot-tall posters of the artist’s rendition of “The Preserve.”
The older man turned his large frame to study the layout.
Randy said, “Each tower is self sufficient with a pool and amenties. They are all named after a native Florida plant or animal. The Panther is the first one. The Key Deer and Alligator will go up next, followed by the Sawgrass, the Manatee, and the Palmetto.”
Golden nodded and said, “I like that. Sounds like a fitting tribute. Will interest older people in Connecticut and Massachusetts too.”
“We intend to advertise in the
New York Times, Boston Globe
and
Hartford Currant
to start.” He was pleased he was able to pluck those names right out of the air with no notice. He was born for this kind of work.
Golden asked, “How many units total?”
Randy smiled. He had him. He stepped over to the glossy poster showing six stylish condos rising on the edge of the vast Everglades. Palm trees scattered around the pools at the base of each tower and deer feeding near the closest tower. Randy said,
Golden said, “Let me see what happens when this concoction expands. You said that water activates it.”
“That’s correct.” Randy smiled, using the one his first boss taught him. The smile that made his eyes twinkle. “We can use this little fountain.” He led the older man over to a basin, which had a small stream of water that projected over three coral-like rocks. Randy made a show out of setting the bag in the water and soaking it well then shoved the nozzle of the spray insulation can into the front of the bag. Golden never stepped closer than a few feet. For once he wasn’t upset Dale was crowding them so bad. The little doofus made it hard for the man to come too close.
Randy used one finger to press the hidden can of insulation and felt the foam start to inflate into the bag. It became rigid in less than three seconds. If it worked right, the sand and sawdust mixture would be stuck to the outside of the foam in the front of the bag and look like it just expanded. It just had to look good this one time. The investment was for large-scale production. By the time this old fart figured out there was a problem, they’d be in bankruptcy and apologizing that things didn’t work out.
He faced Golden and smiled. Playing with the bag he said, “Takes a minute but it firms right up.” He handed the bag to Golden who squeezed it and then, with out asking permission, opened it to examine the inside.
Randy smiled, thinking it couldn’t have gone more perfectly.
Dale squeezed in next to them, radiating a body odor that went with that fountain of perspiration he’d been leaking all morning.
Golden looked hard at Dale until he took a step back. Then he turned to Randy without any expression, the bag still in his hand.
Randy’s heart started to pump faster and, for the first time, realized he was dealing with a man who had been in different businesses for the past forty years. A man used to scams and angles. He was the type of man who had developed Florida in the first place, displacing species and causing housing to soar so locals had to move. Randy felt certain their plan had been discovered.
Then Golden smiled.
Was it a smile of appreciation or a predator who had caught his prey?
The older man’s face softened and he said, “The lab says this will hold as a foundation. What about condos?”
“We need more testing. That’s what this round of capitol will finance.”
“How many investors so far?”
“We intend to raise ten million. We’ll base the investment on a percentage of the capitol.” Randy studied the man’s face. He was hard to read but he didn’t seem wary. Maybe this was working out. Maybe he was about to reel in the big fish.
After another thirty seconds of studying the bag and considering things, Golden turned his attention to the six-foot-tall posters of the artist’s rendition of “The Preserve.”
The older man turned his large frame to study the layout.
Randy said, “Each tower is self sufficient with a pool and amenties. They are all named after a native Florida plant or animal. The Panther is the first one. The Key Deer and Alligator will go up next, followed by the Sawgrass, the Manatee, and the Palmetto.”
Golden nodded and said, “I like that. Sounds like a fitting tribute. Will interest older people in Connecticut and Massachusetts too.”
“We intend to advertise in the
New York Times, Boston Globe
and
Hartford Currant
to start.” He was pleased he was able to pluck those names right out of the air with no notice. He was born for this kind of work.
Golden asked, “How many units total?”
Randy smiled. He had him. He stepped over to the glossy poster showing six stylish condos rising on the edge of the vast Everglades. Palm trees scattered around the pools at the base of each tower and deer feeding near the closest tower. Randy said,
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